Traveling in Iceland reminds me a lot about life. Not all that you've learned (or you think you know) is helpful in surviving the expansive land that throws what defines nature any moment of the trip. It takes a lot of embracing the challenges and having faith.

In a life where there may have been roads built and traveled by our predecessors, the question of whether following the obvious path or to trek where it will be called a road by people after you remains relevant.

At the highland area of Kerlingarfjöll where the highest peak is at some 4,800 feet, I found these two doing exactly that - evaluating the options. Eventually, they turned around and talked to us. Nonetheless, I thought they provided perfect colors to this volcanic land.

If you happen to run into them in your summer wondering, would you please show them this post as I promised? Thanks to Apple, all my contacts disappeared one day and I lost contact with them. They are from Austria. The lady speaks perfect English and the gentleman's name is George.

The journey to the highlands in Iceland proved to be a long one. Not (solely) because the road was difficult to travel on. Not because the weather was unlike the balmy one we've been used to in Southern California. As most situations in life, we can't blame anyone but ourselves. Look, we are two hopelessly distractible people. Remember, "Not All Who Wander are Lost"?

After saying goodbye (or rather "hello to Obama"?) to the sheep farmer, we moved on, not exactly sure what was going to happen next. Approaching a single lane bridge ("Einbreið brú" in Icelandic), we experienced our first traffic congestion in Iceland, caused by sheep, thousands and thousands of them. It was there that we met more sheep farmers, in bright orange outfits.

Turned out, it was the season for these sheep to go home. There they are, coming down in fluffs and then filing into a white string of pearls descending along the edge of the glacier lake Hvítárvatn. For some reason, this image reminds me of a scene from less than a year earlier, on our way to the Antarctica. A herd of people, one following another, moving by the cold blue water...

String-of-Sheep-Hvítárvatn-Iceland-Copyright-Jean-Huang-Photography

While I was busy asking questions like "so, are these all Icelandic sheep", I secretly wished that this would never end and my camera could continue meeting one more herd after the last one. I did also learn that these sheep had spent most of the year wild in the mountains, fending the natural elements with all they've got. So, it was no surprise that they'd be camera-shy. I don't blame them, I felt that I had to learn how to cross a street after spending time in Iceland. But, would someone help me process what I see here?

Icelandic sheep are odd odd people.

Question for you: Do you know why Icelandic sheep are going home in September?

If going to Iceland is an adventure, visiting its highlands, which are mostly an uninhabitable volcanic desert, elevates the idea of adventures to a whole new level. On this fall morning, we set off on the infamous gravel road F35.

Road-F35-to-Kerlingarfjoll-Iceland-Copyright-Jean-Huang-Photography

When there could be any kind of weather all in one day, meeting such a group of men in bright orange could be comforting. A short exchange of words with one of them even made me giddy. It goes like this:He: "Where are you from?" Me: "Los Angeles... Where are you from?"He: "Iceland." He then went on to say "I'm a sheep farmer."

I knew almost nothing about people of this land and their life. As I searched for words to respond, he then turned around and disappeared quickly with his horses in his last sentence: "Say hello to Obama!"

Finally waking up from the clip-clop of horses, I muttered into the cold air "oh, thanks, I will pass it onto him!"